Steve Bannon named runner-up for Campaign Manager of the Year

Trump campaign CEO Stephen Bannon

Trump campaign CEO Stephen Bannon

Congratulations to Stephen Bannon, who has clinched the runner-up position in this year’s Combat! blog award for Best Campaign Manager by registering to vote at a house where he never lived. The Guardian found him registered at a Miami home he once rented for his ex-wife, now vacant and scheduled for demolition. Bannon is a former editor at Breitbart news, which has made a pet issue of voter fraud in recent years, so I know what you’re thinking: Is this his only ex-wife? Nah—the newly minted CEO of Donald Trump For President also divorced Mary Louise Piccard, whom he impregnated in 1994 and then married just as soon as amniocentesis could prove the fetus was healthy. Per the New York Post:

Bannon had allegedly also earlier told Picccard, who was then his girlfriend and the expectant mother of their twin girls, that he would only agree to marry her if the kids were “normal.” He married her on April 14, 1995, three days before the twins were born.

“Bannon made it clear that he would not marry me just because I was pregnant. I was scheduled for an amniocentesis and was told by the respondent that if the babies were normal we would get married,” Piccard claimed in a document. “After the test showed that the babies were normal the respondent sent over a prenuptial agreement for me to review.”

That’s amore! In Bannon’s defense, though, it is much easier to abandon the mother of your disabled children if you aren’t married. It’s too bad these two didn’t work out, but at least she’ll always have her memory of the moment when he got down on one knee and sent over that prenuptial agreement. And Bannon will always have his Combat! Blog Campaign Manager of the Year: Second Place 2016 trophy. Congratulations to this year’s first-place winner, Robby Mook, who continues to win by not fucking up.

Friday links! Birthday edition


I never thought I would live to see it, but people all over the world can use an electronic network to view pictures of unsuccessful cakes. Today is my birthday. I am 36, which means my opinion is no longer valuable re: movies, popular music or men’s shaving products. I took my brother to the airport at five this morning and drove home with the dim light of the 18-35 year-old demographic growing brighter ahead of me. It was an imperfect analogy, frankly, and I felt the tendrils of despair. Then I remembered that, in the words of MC Lyte or possibly Da Brat, age ain’t nothing but a number. It’s just a number and a social arbiter and a quantifiable reminder of my inexorable progress toward death, but on the plus side, everyone has to do what I say. Today is Friday, so read my arbitrary opinions and marvel at how I made it this far.

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